


keep me

by musiclily88



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Famous Louis Tomlinson, M/M, Non-Famous Niall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22047337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: meet cutefamous Louis // non-famous Niall
Relationships: Niall Horan/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	keep me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shiftylinguini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiftylinguini/gifts).



> Secret Santa fic! Famous/Non-famous concept <3

The line for the meet-and-greet is interminably long. Louis knows that it’ll mean being _on_ for hours longer than he’d like, but he supposes that’s the job of it.

He smiles widely at the next fan coming up, feeling like he’s putting on a second show.

But then he pauses, noting the gift-wrapped box in the next fan’s hand. “You brought me a present?” he asks, tipping his head to one side.

“Well, yeah, it seemed like the thing to do, as my ma would say,” the fan responds. “Since you’re doing all this, aren’t ya?” He sets the box down on the table, grinning a crooked smile. “It’s not a bomb, I promise.”

“Right.” Louis blinks. “So, not-a-bomber, what’s your name?”

“Niall.”

“And how do you spell that?”

Niall spells his name, giving another crooked smile. “It’s nice to meet you.” He puts out his hand, forthright and confident. Louis shakes it easily, furrowing his brow.

Next, Louis signs the proffered poster, and he shoots off a bright-hot grin again. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

As an off-thought, he writes down his mobile number.

“It’s been really great, actually,” he adds, quietly, assuming no one can hear him, although that’s not really something he can attest to much in his life. People are pretty much always watching him and listening in. “Keep in touch.”

Niall gives him wide eyes. “I—okay. That’s—unexpected.,” he says, as he turns towards Paul, Louis’ bodyguard, who’s motioning Niall away.

“So are you.”

“I’m what now?”

Rather than replying, Louis smiles, making sure to pop his dimple.

:

The box is full of gingerbread cookies, and Louis eats all of them within forty minutes. 

:

Niall texts him three days later.

:

_not sure if this is a real number. thought I’d try! xx_

_new number, who this? jk, it’s Louis_

_it’s niall here_

_cool_

cool 

They text continuously for the following two days. Niall sends him photos: a Christmas ham, a table covered in empty pint glasses, a blurry selfie showcasing his slightly-crooked teeth in an open grin, a well-lit fir tree.

Louis responds slowly, unsure exactly how to proceed. He’s in uncharted territory to the utmost, not just because Niall is a fan—well, started as a fan, anyhow—but because he hasn’t been in a relationship in a good long time.

Not that he’s in a relationship now, but he’s verging on it, at least emotionally, at least in his own head. He’s reading way too much into each text message, probably, but he can’t help himself for some reason. It’s refreshing, is what it is, a change from the people who always surround him on the road, who let him get away with absolutely everything. It’s refreshing when his mobile buzzes only for him to unlock a text where Niall laughingly calls him a _knobhead,_ followed by a text comprised solely of laughing emoji faces.

One Tuesday night, he spends so long texting with an admittedly dopey look on his face that Paul bodily picks him up and carries him from the tourbus into the venue.

It’s not Louis’ proudest moment, but he supposes he doesn’t really care, even when Paul unceremoniously drops him on his arse. He laughs as Paul tosses a bottle of water at him, rolling across the floor to catch it one-handed.

Lying flat on the floor, Louis holds his mobile above his face, trying not to drop it on his nose. He’s about to make a stupid joke about _cushion for the pushin_ when he gets a text from Niall, wishing him a happy birthday.

Louis pauses, wondering what time zone he’s in, then wondering what country he’s in, then wondering what part of the world he’s in. He sits his mobile down, levering himself up on one arm.

“Hey, Paul?”

“What.” Paul bites into an apple absently, not looking at Louis.

“What day is it?”

Paul shakes his head, opening another bottle of water just so he can dump all of it over Louis’ head.

Louis splutters, clambering to his feet. He swipes at one of Paul’s knee, trying to kick him. “What was that for?” he crows, stealing Paul’s apple after his unsuccessful attempt at knocking him over. “I’ve had people murdered for less.”

“It’s not your birthday yet, kid, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Fine.” Louis sighs, taking a bite of Paul’s apple. “Plus, we all know you’re the one who murders people for me.”

“We hire that out now,” Paul mutters, taking his apple back from Louis.

But Louis’ not listening, because his mobile screen’s lit up and he once again has a stupid-bright grin on his face.

“Ridiculous.” Paul purses his lips as Louis shakes the water out of his hair before diving for his phone. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

“You know you love me.”

:

Niall FaceTimes him at exactly midnight, California time—once Louis remembers where he is—and once they hang up, Louis books Niall a ticket to L.A.

:

Niall shoves a wrapped package into Louis’ hands just as Louis tries to lean in for a hug, so they collide somewhere uncomfortably in the middle.

“Cute,” Louis says, laughing, glad he didn’t go in for a kiss, even though he wanted to.

“That could’ve gone better,” Niall agrees, clapping Louis’ shoulder before shoving the gift into his arms. “Happy belated.”

“You didn’t have—”

“Yeah, yeah, so’s you say, but you’ve done all this, haven’t ya? Least I can do.”

“As your ma says, right?” Louis asks, quirking his lips to the side, clutching the present to his chest. “Thanks.”

“Sure, cheers.” Niall shuffles to one side, hefting his knapsack higher up onto his back. “So are we doing this, or just gonna hang out in this airport, then?”

“Oh, right.” 

Louis, holding his gift protectively, kicks Paul’s knee once he notices him laughing.

:

Niall seems baffled by the fact that Louis’ team is not only driving them to their hotel but are also retrieving Niall’s luggage.

“I had the hardest hell of a time even getting your gift through customs, and you’re saying they’re just going to—deliver my shite to me room?”

“I—yeah?” Louis says, still holding tightly to Niall’s present.

Niall nods slowly, watching Paul open the back door of the Range. “Can I tell you something hilarious?”

“Always.” Louis pokes one finger into the wrapping paper of his gift.

“I didn’t even have a passport before this.”

Paul runs both his hands through his hair as Louis laughs, shoving Niall into the backseat.

:

They tumble out of the car recklessly, mostly because they broke into the car’s minibar.

“You’re a menace,” Paul mutters, handing water bottles to Niall and Louis.

“I know,” they reply in unison.

:

Louis opens the door to their suite before turning to look at Niall. “So, like, if you want, there’s a bunch of rooms that you can—”

“If it’s all t’same to you, I’ll be wherever you are.” Niall

“You’ll what?” Louis feels his grip loosen on the gift, such that he nearly drops it.

“Sorry.” Niall frowns, brows knitting, curling away from Louis, moving into the suite. “Is that—should I not—”

“No! No, I mean, yes.” Louis ushers them both inside, shutting the door with his foot. “Do whatever you want.”

Niall gives him a crooked smile. “Bold statement.”

“I’m nothing if not,” Louis concedes, shrugging his shoulder towards the nearest bedroom.

“So, uh,” Niall counters, biting his bottom lip. “Reckon you might wanna open your gift first.”

Louis raises a brow. “Sounds dangerous.”

“Absolutely is.”

Louis grins, hot and wide, ripping into the paper of his gift. Then he rips into tissue paper. Then he rips into more wrapping paper. “Is this wrapped in kevlar, Ni, Christ.”

“Keep going,” Niall insists, rubbing one hand along the back of his neck.

“This—this is mistletoe.”

“Yeah.”

Louis tosses the paper to one side, laughing. “It’s mistletoe.”

Niall shrugs, ducking his chin down. “It was either that or a pair of pants with my face on.”

“You made the right choice.”

“Did I?” Niall shoots Louis a smile. “Figured so.”

“Figure you need to come here, then,” Louis demands, holding the mistletoe between two fingers.

It’s not pretty or cute—mostly teeth and enthusiasm, really—but it makes them both laugh, and it’s all Louis wants, and when the clock turns to midnight, they’re both under the duvet, eating gingerbread.


End file.
